


Secretarial Savage

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leela can dress the part of a secretary. But she knows only too well that looks aren't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secretarial Savage

Leela found the Doctor in the office where they'd agreed to meet. He was sitting in the largest and most comfortable chair, with both his feet on the desk, and was — as usual — giving the impression that he was the owner of the entire building.

"Ah," he said. "Miss Leela. Come in and take dictation."

"I have already come in," Leela said, closing the door behind her. "And what is this 'dictation' that you want to give me?"

"Oh, only a letter to the Editor of Concrete Weekly." The Doctor held up a glossy magazine. "That article on carbon-chromium reinforcing rods was really beyond the pale. I'm surprised anyone lets him print such filth." With a grin, he tossed the offending magazine onto his desk. "I must say you're blending in superbly."

Leela shook her head. "This plan will not work."

"Why do you say that?"

"As you say, when a hunter wishes to stalk his prey, he must disguise himself. So in the forest, I would wear green, but in the snow I would wear white. And to hunt in this office, I must wear these foolish clothes." She gestured at her jacket and blouse. "I must appear to be a secretary."

"And you look very convincing," the Doctor reassured her.

"But I cannot be a secretary," Leela countered. "I cannot operate the typewriters. I do not know what an 'appropriation' is, or how reports may be 'collated'. I cannot bake 'shorthand.'"

"Well, I always say a little confidence goes a long... Did you just say _'bake'_ shorthand?"

An expression of realisation crossed Leela's face. "Is shorthand then not a sacrificial meal made from the severed hands of one's enemies?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Not in this part of Acton."

"Ah." Leela nodded. "That explains why Mrs Fisher will no longer speak to me in the canteen."


End file.
